What's a Soulmate?
by AGirlWithTheBrokenSmile
Summary: Well, it's like a best friend but more...a soulmate is someone you carry with you forever. Harry/Hermione


Title: **What's a Soulmate?**

Pairing/Character (s): **Harry/Hermione**

Summary: _Well, it's like a best friend but __**more**__…a soulmate is someone who you carry with you forever. _

**A/N: **Well, I've finally done it. I've jumped aboard the Harry/Hermione ship. And Leaane, I know you think I'm crazy for shipping it, but they're perfect for each other! Don't get me wrong, I love **book **Ginny (note that "book" is in bold) but I just like Hermione a _tad _bit more. Well, more like I like Harry/Hermione a tad bit more.

Anyway, I got his idea from an awesome, beautiful tear-jerking video made by the talented **tennisgirlxoxo **of YouTube, who made a Harry/Hermione video called: what's a soulmate? Harry & Hermione. Go check it out; it's amazing!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or the quote from Dawson's Creek. **

Enjoy!

* * *

_Well, it's like a best friend but __**more. **_

Harry stood laughing at the scene in front of him. Lavender Brown had thrown her arms around Ron as soon as she could find him, and had begun snogging the living daylights out of the surprised ginger, who had quickly (and rather enthusiastically) returned the kiss.

Harry, however, was soon pulled out of his amused state when, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a certain bushy-haired brunette slip quietly out of the crowd. Surprised, he turned around, staring as his best friend departed the room.

Not even hesitating, he gave the chanting crowd one last sweep with his eyes, and left the room as well.

He heard her before he saw her. He felt his chest twist a little as he listened to the soft cries coming from the grey, stone steps before him. It got even worse as he neared, and soon the figure of Hermione Granger was visible at the very bottom of the steps.

He sighed lightly and quickened his pace down the steps, slowly sitting down next to her. At first, she didn't seem to acknowledge his presence. The only sign that showed that she even knew he was there was the sudden stifling of her cries. A few long moments passed before she turned towards him, not bothering to wipe the tears that were streaming down her face. In a hoarse voice, she asked him softly, "How does it feel?" She paused, and looked down at her feet before continuing, "When you see Dean with Ginny?"

He blinked, surprised by the question.

Hermione scoffed a little at his expression, but it was only half-hearted. "Come on, Harry," she insisted, her voice a bit nasally from her crying. "I see the way you look at her." When he still didn't answer, she sighed. "I'm your _best friend_," she added, as if it explained everything. Realizing that she wasn't going to give up until she had an answer, he opened his mouth, but before he had the chance to speak, the sound of girlish giggling filled the corridor, along with the unmistakable shuffling of feet. Moments later, a very disheveled-looking Lavender Brown entered the room, breathing heavily. Her hand was tightly grasped to Ron's in a death grip. Her giddy smile faded, however, when she noticed Harry and Hermione, sitting on the steps.

To Harry's surprise, Hermione's expression turned hard as rock. Ron, looking quite awkward, and perhaps a tad bit guilty, glanced out the window. "Birds are acting funny," he muttered, as if to steer away the tense feeling in the air.

Hermione suddenly stood up, her hands clenched into fists. She shouted a charm, and the birds suddenly flew out of the sky and into the room, heading straight for Ron, beaks pointed like needles. Ron's eyes widened, and he quickly grabbed a hold of Lavender's hand, shot Hermione a bewildered glance, and ran out of the room.

A few moments of silence pierced the air after they were gone. It was broken, however, when Hermione fell back onto the steps, her cries arising once more. She leaned her head on Harry's shoulder, and Harry gingerly took her hand into his.

"It feels like this."

* * *

_It's the one person in the world that knows you better than __**anyone**__ else. _

"But I've never even played Quidditch before!" Harry argued as he walked alongside Ron on the grass of the Transfiguration courtyard. "What if I make a fool of myself?"

"You _won't _make a fool of yourself. It's in your blood."

Harry turned to look at Hermione Granger in surprise. Ron scoffed, rolling his eyes. "And how would you know?"

Hermione scowled, crossing her arms. Jerking her head towards the direction behind them, she insisted, "C'mon, I'll show you."

With that, she ran off in the other direction, leaving Ron and Harry with no choice but to follow.

When they arrived at their destination, a trophy case, Hermione pointed to one of the plaques triumphantly. "There," she stated smugly. "Look at that."

There, on a small golden badge, was his father's name. _James Potter. _Harry felt bewildered, but also somewhat relieved. If his father was a good Quidditch player, that he had to be decent too, right?

As they made their way up the staircase, Ron was in disbelief. "I swear," he muttered, more to himself than anyone. "She knows more about you than _you _do!"

* * *

_It's someone who makes you a better person. Actually, they don't make you a better person. You do that yourself because they __**inspire**__ you._

Hermione glanced down at Harry, cut and bloodied, before leaning down to his level. She gently touched his hand with hers.

"You're a great wizard, Harry." She said quietly, meeting his eyes and giving him a soft smile.

Harry smiled in return, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. To be honest, Hermione wasn't too surprised, given the situation. "Not as good as you," he replied.

Hermione let out a short laugh, raising an eyebrow at her best friend. "Books? Cleverness?" She laughed once more, quietly. "There are more important things, you know. Friendship. Bravery."

* * *

_It's the one person who knew you and accepted you and believed in you before anyone else did…__**or when no one would**__. _

The room was quiet. The only sound came from the flicker of the flames that danced brightly in the stone fireplace, filling up the Common Room with warmth and light.

However, even with the fire, Harry was still cold. How could no one believe him? How could Ron, his _best mate_, not believe that he hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire? He was starting to wonder who his real friends were. He sighed deeply, and put his head in his hands.

"Couldn't sleep?" A voice asked from behind him.

Harry glanced up, but was too tired and stressed out to even be surprised. He tried to smile, but could hardly lift of the corners of his mouth.

Hermione sighed and sat down beside him, her eyes scanning him. "Listen, Harry, I know that you're upset about Ron. But I'm sure he'll come around. He always does. It's not like a row between you and him ever lasts very long."

There was a long pause before he asked, "Does anyone believe me, Hermione? Because sometimes it seems like absolutely _nobody _does. Even Dumbledore doesn't seem to think I didn't do it." He glanced up at her, staring her right in the eye. "Do _you _believe me, Hermione?"

There wasn't even hesitation. "Yes, I honestly, do Harry." She shot him a slightly annoyed look. She opened her mouth to say something, but after a second or so, she closed it. Sighing, she said, "Harry, no matter what, please know that I'll always believe in you, alright?"

Harry looked up at her. There was almost a plead in her chocolate brown eyes. He nodded. "Alright."

* * *

_A soulmate is someone who you carry with you forever. And no matter what happens, you'll always love them. _

Harry sighed, and let his head fall back onto the lumpy pillow. The radio was currently switched off; he was already worried enough. He didn't want to add to it.

He supposed he was selfish, thinking that. He should be listening to it, making sure that Ginny, along with his other friends at Hogwarts, were okay. But he knew it would only add to the load of stress and pressure that was building up on his shoulders.

He glanced at Ron, who had recently re-joined in their expedition for horcruxes. He was lying down also, messing with his gift from Dumbledore; the one that had led him back. Harry sighed, and announced quietly, "I'm going out for some air."

Not waiting for a reply, he slipped out of the tent. He walked for a while, his shoes making small imprints in the snow. He stopped in his tracks, however, when he saw Hermione leaning up against a tree trunk, sitting down, a book in her hand. She was staring off into the land ahead of her, as if deep in thought.

His heart was caught in his throat as he remembered the words he had said to her, not much earlier, while in the same position.

"_Maybe we should just stay here. Grow old together."_

After she'd suggested it, for a split second, and only for that long, the idea seemed right. Perfectly, wholly, amazingly _right._

He shook his head, as if he could shake away the thought. But it stayed there, imprinted into his mind like the footprints he was leaving in the snow as he walked.

So, for the time being, he let his mind drift off, to the thoughts that he'd tried so hard to push back.

He thought about the way she smiled, the way she talked. The way she had been the first one to notice when he'd fallen at the Weasley Twins' dropping out celebration. The way she was absolutely _brilliant_, and at some times, didn't even know it.

The way she was always there for him, no matter what idiotic or rude thing he'd done. She would always be a shoulder to lean on, when it really should be the other way around, because even though he had a rough life, she had been through some tough things, too.

He realized, in this moment, that in the oddest, craziest, _impossible _way, he was in love with Hermione Granger.

* * *

It was a cool October day. The temperature outside was chilly, but Harry had managed to escape it when he took Albus to a rollar skating rink for his birthday.

He sat on a bench, pulling off his skates, running a hand through his hair. For someone with great Quidditch reflexes, he sure was a terrible skater.

"Daddy?" A quiet, soft voice came front in front of him. Harry jerked his head up to see his youngest child and only daughter, Lily, standing before him. She was six years-old, and as innocent as a kid her age could get. Her flaming hair was pulled up in a loose, messy ponytail, her light brown eyes sparkling.

Harry smiled at her. "What is it, hotshot?" He asked, pulling her up onto his lap. She giggled, her smile bright.

"Did you ever love anyone other than Mommy?"

The question was so unexpected that Harry nearly dropped his daughter in surprise. He stared at her, eyes widened in shock.

"W-why do you ask?"

Lily sighed impatiently, as if this was taking much to long for her liking. "Well, James told me that some people love lots of different people before they get married. Were you ever like that?"

Against his will, his eyes drifted over to the short brunette who was currently sliding around the rink, holding the hand of a red-haired little boy, around Lily's age.

Glancing back at his daughter, he answered quietly, "Yeah. There was one girl."

Lily's eyes went wide. "Really?" She asked. "Who?"

Harry smiled and ruffled her hair. "You'll find out one day," he said simply, and walked off, holding his skates in his hands.

* * *

_And nothing can ever change that. _

* * *

**Reviews would be lovely!**

**:)**

**-Lily**


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